


Shorts and Boots

by fiercy, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill [41]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), Superman RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6535993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercy/pseuds/fiercy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>warning for fisting</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shorts and Boots

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read). If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed [here](http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1).

Henry had sacrificed his favourite jeans for this. Not that he'd minded, not one bit. In fact his stomach is flipping over itself in anticipation as he gazes in the mirror one last time. He still had a couple of pairs of well-worn jeans, after all, but only these were soft enough to be torn in the seat with just a rough tug. He'd leave that part to Chris.

He's attacked the butter soft denim with scissors not once but three times to get them just right, going shorter every time until he's left with just enough to fully cover his cheeks. There's nothing but bare skin above, and bare skin below until the rolled cuff of his thick socks give way to brown leather work boots just right for the barn.

No time like the present. He grabs a few cold bottles of water to stock in the barn office 'fridge and strides out into the California sun.

Chris has been out chopping wood since after breakfast. His back and arms are aching, the sweat's dripping off him, and he feels great. He'd forgotten how good it feels to do this kind of work. He breaks for a drink, grabbing up the bottle of water he'd set aside and catches sight of Henry heading to barn, dressed in nothing but boots and cut-offs, and his cock fills so quickly it makes his head swim.

He's only a few steps past the patio when Henry catches sight of Chris. He actually stutters in his step, his breath catching. Jeans riding low on his hips, his bare chest shining with a light sheen of sweat, Chris looks like the god he plays. Henry's cock begins throbbing behind the zipper of his jeans, and if it had had a little more room it would no doubt have curled up to peek over the top of his waistband. He licks his lips, swallows hard and decides to keep on going toward the work waiting for him. He's supposed to be going through his chores normally, and that's what he'll do, though he does smile a little shyly at Chris.

It's only with the greatest willpower Chris manages to go back to chopping, finishing the stack he'd been working on, building the anticipation for them both.

Henry chuckles when Chris picks up the ax again. He stands where he is, watching the play of muscle under his glistening skin and oh how he wants to just stand here and drink in the sight. He has horses to tend to however, and the plan for today wasn't taking a flying leap at his incredible man so he continues toward the barn. The scent of hay--even ripe with piss and shit--mixed with horseflesh and leather is something he'll never tire of, and has him pausing just inside the huge doors to revel in the feeling of coming home.

Another forty minutes passes before Chris finally finishes, the axe safely stashed away and the firewood stacked and covered with tarps. He grabs a glass of water from the kitchen and washes his hands but doesn't bother putting his t-shirt back on before he heads for the barn.

The first ten minutes Henry spends in the barn he's vibrating with anticipation, his mind split between the day to come with Chris and the horses greeting him with quiet nickers. Before long, though, he's lost in his chores, scooping up sweet smelling grain and hauling fresh water to each stall. He speaks quietly to each gentle-tempered beast, falling into a kind of meditation he'd only thought he knew how much he missed.

Slipping into the barn, Chris sneaks up behind Henry, who's busy sweet-talking one of their new arrivals. "Mm. Look at you," he says, running his hand over Henry's ass, the denim worn so thin he can feel the heat of Henry's body radiating into his palm.

Henry startles slightly, engrossed in his grooming ritual as he was. He immediately settles back into that hand, though, his eyes closing, his cock immediately hard again. He purr-growls, arching his back to show off his ass. "Hey." His voice is a bit rough just that fast. "You're one to talk. I about sprained something when I saw you out there."

"I was just chopping wood," Chris shrugs, knowing damn well what he must have looked like to Henry. He rubs at the fabric, right along the seam, feeling how easily it starts to give.

The brings a chuckle. As if Chris doesn't know how much Henry likes to watch him flex his muscles in physical situations. His attention strays from his thoughts with that touch, though, the hint of a rub against his crease making him shiver.

"Don't stop what you're doing," Chris says, using his nails to split the denim, start to work it open. "I wouldn't want to distract you from your work."

The sweet, hollow flip of his stomach has Henry closing his eyes briefly, but he does return to his chore, finishing up the mane combing he'd been doing on Chris's Arabian. Hooves are next. That requires bending over. He has a feeling his shorts aren't going to be in one piece for long.

Grabbing a hoof pick, he shifts slightly to the side, his hand sliding down the horses leg to urge it up. Bending at the waist, he begins scraping.

Meanwhile, Chris works at the denim, watching as it slowly gives, spreads, beneath his probing fingers, those fingers dipping into Henry's cleft, finding him well-slicked. "Good boy," he says softly.

Henry falters briefly, a whisper of a moan breathed over the horses hoof. The touch is sweet, the praise sweeter and he honors the attention from Chris by doing what he was told. He returns to his work, his body on high alert, goosebumps breaking over his skin.

Cock achingly hard already, Chris moves with him, pushing two fingers into Henry and crooking them just so.

A soft gasp this time, but Henry manages to keep on task, moving onto the next hoof. He chuckles and glances over his shoulder, cheeks colored with arousal. "Don't shock me too much, please Sir, until I get done with his hooves."

"I won't," Chris promises, smiling, keeping his fingers right where they are as Henry carries on with his task. Like it's completely normal to stand around with your fingers deep in someone's ass. Like they belong there.

It's not completely normal, and Henry is having trouble with both manoeuvrability and concentration, but the reward is sweet. Each time he bends or twists, a zing of pleasure shoots up his spine. His cock is almost full, uncomfortable against the zipper of his shorts and he gives a soft groan as he tackles the last hoof.

"Tell me when you're done," Chris orders, rubbing at his own cock through his jeans, his breath thick and heavy.

The scent of dust and horseflesh is heavy in Henry's nostrils as he nods, his head leaning against a firm flank as to steady himself as he completes his task. He stays bent, tossing the hoof pick gently into the tack carrier he uses to go from stall to stall. "Done, Sir," he breathes, a thrill of need dancing along his spine.

"Good. You can stand up, but you don't want to lose my fingers. Move us outside the stall." Chris wants to do this so badly he's aching with it but them getting kicked in the head or anywhere else is not part of his plans.

Easier said then done, of course, but Henry's dedicated to the task. He stands carefully, tightening hard around Chris's fingers as he takes a few short steps outside the stall door and slides it closed when Chris is clear. He blows out a pleasure-shaky breath and licks his lips, flashing on what they must look like, his cock twitching.

"Brace your hands against the stall door," Chris orders, pushing his fingers deeper, a third added, already working Henry open.

The warm, rough texture of wood against Henry's palms just adds to the layer of sensation growing second by second. He grunts softly as Chris pushes in deeper, stretches him wider, the slight burn a beautiful thing. The soft nicker of a horse (Henry hasn't learned their voices yet, he's not sure who it was) slams home just where they are and he groans, spreading his legs open and courting more. "Fuck, Sir... oh fuck."

"At some point, today or tomorrow, I'm going to give you my whole fist, just like this," Chris says softly, twisting his fingers still deeper, letting Henry feel his knuckles scraping against the gape of his hole.

A rush of heat merges with the intense pleasure Chris is already bringing, and Henry groans, his head dropped down between his arms, eyes open and watching the dust curl up around the toes of his boots. "Promises, promises," he gasps out as a crisp breeze suddenly sneaks in, bringing goosebumps up on his skin and, he could swear, cool air inside of him. God, he must be open wide!

Chris grins, adding a fourth finger, taking his time in stretching Henry. "You're awfully brave for a man in your position."

Henry's head falls a little further, his breath quicker still as his hole stretches and burns. His kicks his right leg out to the side a few inches, giving Chris more room to work. He has to catch his breath to speak, but speak he does. "This is the position I belong in," he shoots back, smirking slightly. "Bent over and spread wide for your hand, your cock."

"Good. I'm glad you know it," Chris says, pulling his fingers free and giving Henry's ass a hard slap. "Stay there. Don't move."

Henry jerks, then groans, at the unexpected sharp sting and the warmth that radiates outward. A second later he's watching Chris's retreating back with a furrow between his brows. "Where the bloody hell is he going?" he grumbles, looking down at his cock. "Did you make him leave you dirty dodger?" He chuckles, shakes his head and shifts his legs just a little to better feel the steady cross-breeze in the barn caress his hole.

In the house, Chris rummages through the box of toys and things they haven't unpacked yet, finally locating a tub of thick lube with a triumphant, "Yes!" He tucks it under his arm and saunters back out to the barn. Sets it on the ground beside Henry where he can see it. "Missed me?" he asks, flipping the top open and scooping out a nicely-sized dollop.

Henry's eyes glaze over, his belly doing back flips while he cock takes on the imprint of his zipper track. "Yes." He tries to look over his shoulder, to get a good look at Chris but the angle's wrong and all he can do is wait, so he returns his eyes to the tub. "Christ, yes."

Two slick fingers pushed back inside Henry and Chris crooks them, angling for that sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pleasant shock lifts Henry up on his toes for a moment. The groan seems to bubble up from those toes. Arching his back, he presents his ass higher, doing his best to give Chris as much of himself as he can, and a good view to go with it.

"You are so hot," Chris says, pushing a third finger into Henry, fucking them in and out. His cock throbbing roughly at the way Henry's hole, framed by what's left of his shorts, flutters around them, grasping eagerly every time he goes deep.

"I have good motivation to keep you thinking so." The breathless sentiment ends on a soft groan and his blooming smile, is a little shaky and pleasure soaked. "Case in point, keeping you interested in doing things like this."

Chris chuckles. "I'm never not interested in doing things like this," he says, grinning, "but you and I both have work and other commitments..." A fourth finger added to the mix, intensifying the stretch.

Henry shuts up then, having meant to be flirty, a bit thrown off balance by the reality Chris interjects. He couldn't have spoken anyway, a huff of exertion and a full, throaty moan pushed from him by Chris's fingers. The pleasure-pain has him switching his concentration, his mind on nothing more than feeling now.

"That's it, boy," Chris says, slowly but steadily fucking his fingers into Henry. "Open up for me."

Henry's legs are starting to tremble now, his hole stretched, cooled with each withdrawal by the open air, the breeze sweeping through the main hall of the barn. He shudders hard as Chris brushes over his sweet spot again, groaning in the back of his throat.

Chris takes his time in opening Henry up, working his hand deeper and deeper, giving Henry's body and mind time to adjust, relax, accept this is going to happen.

Henry's trembling, the present part of his mind grateful his legs are strong enough to hold out against the sensual assault. The rest of his mind? Blown. Flying. And yet hyper-aware of everything Chris. The sound of his breath, the scent of him filtered through a haze of familiarity that beats out even the raw smells of the barn. The _feel_ of his huge hand working him, demanding from him so perfectly.

The widest part of his hand at Henry's hole and Chris murmurs, "Here we go." He draws back a little, pushes forward again, twisting deeper until suddenly, just like that, Henry's body opens up, sucking him in to the wrist.

There's sweat dripping off of Henry's brow and the trembling in his legs hasn't gotten much better but that only adds to the beauty of the experience. Chris knows his body so well, knows just when to back off, when to push and he cries out with triumph when his body responds. "Oh fuck," he whispers. "Chris it's brilliant."

"You're so hot..." Chris responds, pushing a little deeper, into that velvet warmth surrounding his fingers, his fist. "So tight."

A chuff pushes from Henry's lips. "I hope I'm tight, you have your bloody fist up my arse." Even he can hear how much his accent is thickened, how rough his voice is and a moment later Chris's knuckles rub his sweet spot and he groans like a porn star. "So good...."

"You like that?" Chris asks, smiling, twisting his fist just so. Wanting more of those noises, those groans.

"Yes, Sir, _Christ_ yes." Henry's panting now, the in and out, press and pull driving him higher and higher.

"You gonna come for me?" Chris says, the words more demand than question, his knuckles brushing over Henry's sweet spot again and again.

Henry nods before he finally speaks. "Oh God, yes, please Sir." It's all bubbling up inside of him, and a moment after he acknowledges Chris he cries out, shooting the wood of the stall in front of him with ropes of sticky release.

"Good boy." Chris stills his hand as the aftershocks wrack Henry's frame, moving only as the muscles around his fist relax once more. "That's one."

Chuffing out a laugh, Henry tightens around his hand again, forcing himself a moment later to relax again. "One. Right. Thank you, Sir." The words are sincere and respectful, his love for Chris flowing over him.

It's going to be a long, wonderful day.


End file.
